


We Can Always Get A Divorce

by AzzleDazzle



Series: Yuri!!! In Vegas [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Panic Attack, vegas fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 07:44:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10079960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzzleDazzle/pseuds/AzzleDazzle
Summary: The reality of the situation hits Yuuri like a ton of bricks. He doesn't handle it well. Until he does.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Y'ALL THOUGHT THIS WAS GOING TO BE FLUFFY BUT YUURI WAS LIKE NOPE
> 
> A continuation of I'm A Catch! and, yes, you really should read that one first.

The hot water beats a blissful pattern over Yuuri’s back and the tile is cool against his forehead. The sound of the water drowns out the sound of Viktor moving around the hotel room and Yuuri is glad for it. For a few minutes, he can pretend he’s in the cheap motel he shares with Phichit, can pretend the last hour was just a really crazy dream, can pretend he didn’t get married to famous actor on a drunken whim.

Too bad Yuuri is terrible about pretending.

The shower is bigger than the one in the motel, the lights brighter, the bathroom almost as big as the entire room he shares with Phichit. It screams money so loudly that it’s a relentless press on Yuuri’s senses. He emerges from the shower after scrubbing the funk of alcohol and sex off with what he’s assuming is Viktor’s personal toiletries, wrapped in one of the fluffy hotel robes. The way Viktor’s eyes rake over him when he steps out of the bathroom makes him flush and Yuuri ducks his head, shuffling over to his phone. Phichit has finally replied to his pleading texts to tell him that he’s at the breakfast buffet in the lobby and Yuuri’s head is pounding enough that he ignores the fact that Phichit is at the same hotel as him and instead texts him that he’ll be down soon. He silently hopes his best friend is in equally bad shape or else he has no excuse for letting Yuuri do something as stupid as get married while drunk.

Even if his husband is probably the hottest person Yuuri has ever seen. Semantics or whatever.

The room has been straighten while Yuuri had his quiet freakout in the shower and his clothes are neatly folded and sitting on the desk.

“I didn’t want to just walk into the room while you were showering,” Viktor says from the closet. He comes out dressed in a pressed blue shirt and black trousers and Yuuri’s heart jumps at the sight of him.

“Thank you,” he says, touched by the consideration. Viktor winks at him before sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling on socks.They’re mostly black, but it takes Yuuri a minute to realize that they have little poodles on them. “You like dogs?” he blurts out. Viktor looks up at him through the fall of his silver hair and for the first time, Yuuri fully takes in the man he married. His eyes are a startling shade of blue, his hair silver, his face all angles and, yes, it takes his breath away because this man is just gorgeous. How the hell did he even get up the nerve to talk to this man in the first place, much less convince him to marry plain, boring Katsuki Yuuri?

_“Phichit, he’s so pretty,” Yuuri moans, leaning into his shorter friend, which makes them go sideways a bit._

_“Go talk to him!” Phichit leans back, pressing Yuuri into an available seat._

_“I can’t, I can’t, he’s-” There’s a shot glass in his hand and another one replaces it after he throws that one back._

_“Go forth, my little gay son, and get you some,” Phichit says, smirking at him over the rim of his glass._

_“I’m not gay! And I’m older than you!”_

_Phichit rolls his eyes before his face splits into a wide grin. “Oh, looks like I don’t even have to make you drink more.”_

_Before Yuuri can ask him to clarify, the man he’s been staring at for the past two hours is sliding into the seat across from Yuuri, flicking his silver hair back with a charming grin._

Okay, Yuuri changes his mind, he doesn’t want to know. He shakes the memory away and notices Viktor is smiling at his, soft and sweet. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, mortified at being caught staring and zoning out. Viktor probably thinks he’s weird and a creep and-

Viktor’s laugh settles something hot in his guy. “It’s okay. Let’s get dressed and go down to the buffet; my friend is waiting for us.”

Yuuri nods, hurrying to the bathroom once again to change. His jeans are fine, other than general club funk, but the shirt is an older one that didn’t come away unscathed by whatever happened the night before; _none_ of the buttons had survived. He tries to figure out a way to get around this, but he needs a shirt, so he takes a deep breath, shirt wrapped around him tightly.

“Um, Viktor-”

And the man is there, holding out a black shirt nearly identical to the one Yuuri was wearing. “I, ah, can be a bit amorous in my attentions to beautiful people; I had a feeling that might be the case.” Yuuri flushes again; did Viktor just call him beautiful? “This is a spare one of mine. I don’t know how well it will fit, but you should look okay if the paparazzi snap a picture of you.”  
Yuuri’s hands freeze around the fabric. “Paparazzi?”

“Yes, they’re probably camped out downstairs.” Viktor says it so casually, but Yuuri’s heart is racing. He really does _not_ need his picture splashed on some shitty gossip site, Dean Leroy would probably fire him, the university wouldn’t stand behind such a scandal, oh god, what is he going to do?

He doesn’t realize his breathing has gone shallow and his face pale until Viktor is in front of him, looking very concerned for the first time all day. “Are you okay?” His hands come up, but almost immediately go back down before they can reach Yuuri, for which he’s immensely grateful.

“I just- I have to- I can’t-” His vision grows spotty and he sinks down to floor, the coolness of the wall behind him grounding him and giving him something to focus on that's not his pounding heart and clammy hands.

Viktor, while obviously not good at comforting, knows how to handle anxiety attacks because he sits close enough to Yuuri that he's always in sight, but he doesn't reach out to touch him again, and for that, Yuuri is very grateful. Instead, he begins a long stream of one sided conversation, full of inane information about himself. Yuuri tunes him out mostly, but the mindless chatter helps him center himself, his breathing leveling out until he’s able to stand on shaking legs. Viktor stands with him, hands out in case Yuuri starts to fall, but Yuuri ignores them, murmuring that he’ll be back in a second. The wall is his companion to the bathroom, where he splashes water on his face and uses one of the cups by the sink to fill with more water, draining it quickly.

Viktor is there, frowning, and Yuuri feels like he’s already failing some test he never prepared for. His apologies are waved off, Viktor quick to reassure him that he did nothing wrong; how is it that this man he’s only really known for a couple of hours (because last night doesn’t count when he can’t remember it) is already so in-tune with him? Viktor holds the shirt out to him and he takes it, slowly sliding it on, fingers barely trembling as he forces buttons through holes and tucks it in.

“We don’t have to go down to breakfast.”

“I-” It’s an out. “No, my friend is already waiting for me down there, and yours is too. We- It’ll be fine.” Yuuri forces out a smile, but can feel how stiff it is.

“I can call the management of the hotel to make sure it’s clear, but I can’t promise they won’t see us.”

Yuuri’s heart melts a little bit at that; so much work put in for his feelings. “Come on, Phichit’s going to storm up here if we don’t get down there soon. I’ll… figure something out.” He wishes desperately for his anxiety pills, but they’re sitting in his bag in his hotel room, not expecting to need them for a simple night at the club. Phichit will help, though, something familiar to ground himself.

Viktor holds the door open for him and he does his best not to flinch when a guiding hand ghosts along his low back when they head for the elevators. The look on Viktor’s face says he wasn’t very successful, his hand moving away, and Yuuri curses himself inwardly. He’s never been good with physical touches with new people, but if this man is his husband (he’s still having a hard time wrapping his head around that), then he supposes he’ll have to get used to it.

“Hey, we can always get a divorce, right?” Yuuri blurts out when they’re on the elevator, thankfully alone.

Viktor’s eyes widen, mouth open a bit. He looks away, frowning. “Da, I suppose we could,” he murmurs. And there Yuuri goes again, saying the wrong thing. The ride down to the lobby is silent, broken only when the doors slide open and Phichit yells his name, rushing on the elevator and tackling Yuuri in a hug. He lets out a small “oof!” when his back hits the wall, but hugs his friend back nonetheless.

“I can’t believe you’re married, it’s so insane! This is Chris, he’s super awesome, he’s Viktor’s bestie, they came to Vegas to celebrate his wrapping of a new movie, how awesome is it that we can now say we know famous actors! Come on, let’s go get breakfast, I’m starving and I know your hangover is killing you. Chris says the breakfast served here is the best thing ever and I’m inclined to believe him.” He keeps chattering away, way too awake and lively for someone who was out drinking until the early hours, but that’s how Phichit has always been. Yuuri can’t wait until he gets older and starts to suffer like the rest of them. He glances behind them as Phichit drags him off to the restaurant portion of the hotel and sees Viktor and Chris following behind them. Their heads are close together and Viktor is frowning and, well, Yuuri doesn’t like that look. Viktor should never frown; the lines tug at his face and he can’t help but feel like it’s _wrong_ , like Viktor should permanently be in a state where he’s smiling.

Chris leads them to a table in the back, away from the crowds and the windows, and they all settle in. Yuuri’s ears burn when Viktor pulls out his chair for him and he sits down gingerly. Their waitress comes over as soon as Viktor sits down and Yuuri kicks Phichit’s leg when he keeps nudging Yuuri under the table, answering Yuuri’s glare with a smirk as Chris orders mimosa’s for the table. Yuuri isn’t sure he can tolerate the orange juice with his stomach twisting the way it is, but he doesn’t speak up, flipping through the menu with a casualness he doesn’t feel.

“Brunch is really good here,” Viktor leans over to tell him softly. Yuuri’s eyes flick up to meet Viktor’s and he manages a small, weak smile.

“Brunch all around!” Phichit exclaims excitedly when the waitress returns with their drinks. Once she’s gone, Phichit turns to Viktor. “So tell me more about yourself! I need to know which shovel talk I should give you.” The smile he flashes at Viktor makes him shiver just a bit; he’s obviously not joking, about the talk or the shovel.

“Phichit!”

“What! I just want to know more about the man my bestiest friend in the whole world married.” Phichit smiles innocently at Yuuri, batting his eyelashes.

“Yuuri wants to get divorced,” Viktor says, his tone light and joking, but the tightness around his eyes and face betray him.

“You can’t do that,” Chris says before anyone can say anything; Yuuri pointedly ignores the Look that his best friend is throwing his way. There’s a Talk in store for him later.

“Why not? It’s what Yuuri wants,” Viktor replies.

“Because they’re throw you under the bus!”

“No, they won’t. I wouldn’t be the first celebrity to get married in Vegas and turn right around and get divorced. I’m sure I won’t be the last.”

“Viktor, they’ll crucify you in the press. This is your first role in America, you can’t start your career here with a scandal.”

Viktor glances at Yuuri, who’s staring wide-eyed at the two of them. He switches to French. _“It’s what he wants. He had a panic attack over the paparazzi being here, I won’t force him to stay with me just for my reputation.”_ Chris’ eyes widen and he hates sharing such a personal thing about Yuuri, but it’s necessary for Chris to know the depth of what happened. Yuuri isn’t prepared for the spotlight, not as much as Viktor is about to be thrust into.

_“But you really like this guy. I’ve never seen you act this way with anyone before, and certainly not someone you’ve known for eighteen hours.”_

_“I know, but I can’t ask him to do this.”_

_“It’s your choice, too, you know. Talk to him.”_

Viktor frowns, but nods. It’s then that he realizes that the other two men are staring at him. “Sorry,” he says brightly, flashing them a blinding smile.

Yuuri’s ears and cheeks are burning red as he snaps his mouth closed, clearing his throat. “Um, so-”

He’s saved from making small talk when the waitress appears with their food and there’s a few minutes where they’re arranging the table to hold everything, everyone getting comfortable. The food, as promised, is delicious and goes far in soothing Yuuri’s stomach, still wracked with nerves and too much alcohol from the night before. Phichit fills the table with chatter, Chris and Viktor joining in after a few minutes, but Yuuri stays quiet, wondering about the French words earlier. His knowledge of the language is rudimentary at best, but he had caught a few words and phrases. He listens as Viktor tells them stories of working on film sets, of growing up in Russia, how he and Chris met on a mountain in Switzerland when both were trying to hide from fans. He seems… nice. Sweet, even, as he flashes another small smile at Yuuri and this time, Yuuri smiles back.

**Author's Note:**

> Sssh, I'm working on the third one right now.


End file.
